The Darkest Hour of the Night
by CampDreamer
Summary: My name is Edward Cullen, and blood is what I desire. My existance is based on it. I kill for it, and no human will stand in my way of getting it. Twi-hards watch out, this is no sparkly pixie book. Rated T for blood, gore, language, poss. sexual content.


Blood.

I thirst for it. The feeling as it saturates and blooms over my tongue gives me more pleasure then any sexual desire ever could. I love the shocking red color, the smell, the feel of human blood. Every time I hear a human scream a dark smile covers my face and I go in for the kill, my prey quivering against the wall.

I'm called Edward, a name that hasn't been in style since I was a small child in the early 1900's, but I rarely use it. I almost never talk to anyone, and only a select few know me by anything but the hellish monster that I am, a vampire.

My existence might be seen as lonely to some, with only a pathetic drudge to accompany me, but those that might pity me don't understand.

***A definition***

A drudge is any human slave owned by a vampire. The said vampire feeds the intent of their essence in the form of venom into a human, wishing to create a mortal slave for eternity, but not wishing to create a true vampire. A drudge can also be created if a vampire feeds on the human but does not kill it. It is almost physically impossible for a slave to become a vampire after being stripped of the status of "Drudge", but it has happened in vampiric history. Most drudges die in the process of being removed of their master's essence, before the vampirication process has even begun. Even if they survive losing vampire essence, most humans cannot cope with the psychological pain caused when the transition to vampire occurs.

I quickly taught myself the ways of vampires, the fighting techniques, strengths, and weaknesses of my kind, and mere months after I was created, I plotted to kill my entire pathetic coven. They were weak, sniveling, and cared too much for human life. They had attempted to sustain themselves on animal blood, and they were slowly wasting away into nonexistence. I was doing them a favor in just putting them out of their misery.

***A small intrusion***

Some of my coven did not need to die the way that I killed them. Others deserved it.

I first slaughtered the leader of my coven, Carlisle, while hunting for caribou. He proved one of the hardest to kill; his love for me and the rest of my coven drove him to fight hard. His efforts were for shit; unless, of course, he had killed me. His wife, Esme, came next. She was almost too easy to destroy. Before the rest of my coven caught wind of my treachery, I met up with one of the most hardened members of the clan, Jasper, and offered him the opportunity to have human blood once again. I regretted to tell him that I would have to kill his mate Alice, and when I finally admitted to what must be done, he turned against me. That was how I knew that even if I offered to spare another in our coven, Emmett, Jasper would still do all in his power to save his eccentric mate, killing me if necessary. As if I would give a fuck about fighting Jasper. That asshole was only problematic when I wanted to make the game interesting and play with my eyes closed. Even so, his pathetic, shitty existance was over without a thought.

I chose to simply destroy Emmett, the brawn of the coven, before giving him the chance to survive, guessing that he would want to protect his shallow mate, Rosalie, from me as well.

The only two vampires left to kill were Alice and Rosalie now, and I chose to enjoy my last murders, hunting them down. Rosalie was more reckless then Alice because of her passionate infatuation, her knowledge that I had killed her husband, and her hatred of me. I tortured her with vivid descriptions of how much Emmett had begged for mercy while his body was consumed by flames as we fought.

I felt the need to prolong the end of her life because she was living a lie. She fed off of humans damn near every single night, only having enough animal blood to dilute some of the strength that humans give us, just enough to cause the rest of our coven to not be able to detect the signs of her true diet. Her life ended when she became a lack of amusement and I was satisfied with her suffering.

There was another reason Rosalie deserved to die the way she did, it was something that made me hate her more then anything else on this Earth. She scarred my life so deeply that I would never forget. She ensured it.

Alice was a different story. It took me approximately fifteen human years to hunt the bitch down, and even longer in what I call "Edward Years" to cause her to go into a frenzy. Fighting with her was fucking hell. She was cold, calculating, and so fucking mad I could hardly believe that the magnitude of anger in her eyes could consume someone as small as her.

Physical abuse and the rape of vampires is almost impossible, but I found ways with Alice. The best part was when she seemed to give up fighting and consent to her fate, and then spring into action again when I moved in for the kill. The desire to overpower her was too strong, and the pieces left behind would never be recognizable as Mary Alice Brandon Cullen again.

After the last of my coven was successfully eliminated, and the shit that had polluted my hellish existence was finally gone, I was able to have some fun. A small town in the middle of nowhere was decimated over the course of thirty minutes. And it was the most fucking fun I've had in my entire life.

Living for eternity is no fun without a little action.

I wasn't always like this, though. I wasn't always cynical and masochistic. At one time I had a life, a smile, a love...

But that's in the past, and vampires learn not to live in the past.

Too many memories.

I suppose you want to know why I would tolerate having a drudge with me if I was willing to kill off my entire "family". The answer is that I got addicted to her blood. I caught wind of her scent one day when passing through a drizzly little town, and I could not help but go in for the chase. My throat caught on fire as the smell of blood - so sweet it would have been damn near impossible to resist had I even wanted to - penetrated my acute senses.

I was a predator, and she was my prey. Nothing else in the world mattered as much as hunting her down and feeding on her. My mouth flowed with venom and my throat felt parched and raw. I quickly found her and began to feed on her, my fangs elongating in my mouth before cutting through her weak skin. I growled hungrily as I fed on her delicious blood. If I had known that the sweet taste of her blood had existed, I would have spent my entire fucking existence searching for it. I would have combed the earth over looking for it.

Already I could sense her body going limp as her blood flowed hot in my mouth and down my throat, extinguishing the fire. I suddenly panicked, wondering if I would ever be able to find such blood again, and I remembered something I had learned in my nomadic existence.

I had met up with a vampire who possessed about twenty human slaves at any given time. Drudges, he called them. He was able to still feed on them without either killing them or creating new vampires.

I decided I may as well try to turn this pathetic human girl into my own drudge. I pulled one more time against her throat, relishing the amazing taste of her blood, before I stopped feeding and concentrated on one thought: you are now my drudge. I removed my teeth from her neck with bated breath. I immediately noticed the changes beginning: her body becoming slightly harder, some of the color returning to her white cheeks from all the lost blood, and her eyes becoming nearly black as her pupils dilated.

I slowly learned over the years how to tolerate human existence. One thing I came to learn from creating a drudge who I fed upon was that I had made a mistake in keeping one. Human slaves can sometimes become attached and attracted to their masters.

My drudge, Isabella Swan, fell in love with me.


End file.
